We are such stuff as Sainte-Adèle is made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

Another Sainte-Adèle Thanksgiving long weekend (an hour's drive north of Montreal, into the Laurentides), most likely the last, as mother-in-law has the place up for sale, finding the ongoing maintenance a bit much, especially for a two-plus hour drive each way. We were there in September, which was plenty fun, but do you remember the first time I made my way up there? Another Thanksgiving, eighteen years ago, Christine and I exploring the cottage that her parents purchased back in the 1990s. This time, there with Christine's mother, as well as his brother and his family in from Halifax, four kids younger than Rose. The cousins always enjoy seeing their cousins, which adds to the chaos but I think they wouldn't have it any other way.

We did bring the kittens along this time, uncertain if we should prod the neighbours again to check in on them at home, and they howled the whole drive up and the whole drive back. It was a good twenty-four hours before they calmed down once landing, with Goose rarely leaving the basement, although happy enough, as long as the children didn't frighten him too much. Too many kids for his liking, and Frankie nervous as well, but at least he would wander around where we were. Goose quite literally wouldn't leave the carrier for a full day, but at least his complaining slowed. Perhaps had we been a further day or two, they might have figured it out.

We had big family dinners, with days mostly allowing the kids to interact, each of us in our corners. I held to the sunroom with my notebook and stack of reading, naturally, poking at notes towards eventual reviews. I attempted, as well, to use the time to read longer prose, which is always a challenge (I often save a couple of books for rare flights, knowing the opportunities for reading that travel provides). Oh, and we saw an array of nearly a dozen wild turkeys wandering the yard, which was curious. We often see deer, also, although not this particular time. Perhaps the turkeys chased them away.

Oh, and the final full day we were there, Rose produced, directed, wrote and edited not one but two short "horror movies" involving her and the rest of the children. Her editing and use of music was quite impressive, honestly. I'll be interested to see if she continues along this particular trajectory.